


A little piece of happy

by Mixedia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Enochian, F/M, HSAU!, Student!Cas, Student!Meg, human!Cas, human!Meg, teacher!Bobby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7150565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mixedia/pseuds/Mixedia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg is forced into taking Enochian language classes for a punishment for bad behaviour at school. She thinks it's the worst thing to ever happen to her, until the first note lands on her desk</p>
            </blockquote>





	A little piece of happy

**Author's Note:**

> I received a prompt for a High School AU from the wonderful Blondabelle on my Tumblr, Megstielshipper, and could not help but write it. Possibly one of my favourite fics I've ever written, it's been so much fun! Let me know if you would like me to continue this one, I know I can squeeze out at least one more part.

It was entirely unfair, Meg thought. All she’d done was set fire to the bleachers, Alastair and Ruby had been the ones to run onto the field, spray pepper-spray into the eyes of the footballers, and Lilith had set up the prank with the cheerleaders, tying all their skirts together so when she pulled on the rope they were ripped off. At any rate, how were any of them supposed to know half the cheerleaders weren’t wearing any panties? Admittedly, the rest of the gang had been given litter-picking duties until the end of the school year, and being that this year had only just begun that was a long old punishment.

Still, she thought to herself, At least they didn’t get stuck in babble-class with all the nerds for a term. She sighed as she half-collapsed into a chair at the back of the classroom, her stomach dropping out of her shoes when she looked up at the clock. 3pm was supposed to be the time to go home, the time to get out of this dump, not the time to be sitting down for yet another class.

That’s when the door opened and the lamest bunch of dweebs she had ever seen started filing in, almost all of them boys but there were a few girls spattered into the group here and there. She turned to face the window so none of them would try and engage her in conversation, but it seemed today was not her day.  
“Hi there!” Came an overly enthusiastic voice from the desk next to her. She turned back round to face the culprit and was horrified to see the weediest looking guy she had ever seen offering her his hand. Was she really supposed to touch that thing? “Name’s Garth Fitzgerald Vth, but you can just call me Garth. Aren’t you excited to be learning Enochian?” He asked her, practically bouncing off his seat in excitement.

“I can barely contain myself.” She replied sarcastically, keeping her arms firmly crossed over her chest.  
“Not much of a hand shaker huh?” Garth Fitz-something the whatever said, before smiling - if at all even wider than before - and standing up out of his chair. “That’s ok, we’ll hug instead. It’s way friendlier anyway!”

“Garth, you’re here to learn Enochian, not get all up and friendly with the ladies. Now park your ass and put a sock in it.” Came the gruff, red-necked tones of their teacher “Call me Bobby” Singer.Meg had never been more grateful for a teacher to walk into a classroom in her life.

 _Maybe this won’t be so bad_ , She thought to herself, slumping back in her chair and smiling slightly, _At least we don’t have that uptight cow Ms. Milton teaching us._  
It was within the first few minutes of the lesson that Meg actually saw something that caused her eyebrows to raise in surprise - the dweebs were passing notes to one another when Bobby’s back was turned. They were genuinely going against school rules - albeit lame ones. Her respect for her classmates raised ever so slightly. She tracked the progress of one particular note which didn’t seem to be getting opened by anyone until, incredibly, it landed on her desk. Even more incredibly, it had her name written on the front in neat, formal letters and even more incredibly, underneath there was a small map of the classroom with her seat circled meaning there was no way it could be for any other “Meg” in the classroom.

Raising an eyebrow, she looked around the room to see who could possibly have sent her a note, but there was no tell tale signs. Sitting up in her seat, she reached over and took the note, opening it to see if she was given any indication on the inside, but what she found was a bunch of squiggly lines, drawn like a spider dipped in ink had been dying on the page - joker had written the damn thing in Enochian.

Over the course of the rest of the class, Meg kept one ear on Bobby to make sure he wasn’t picking on her to answer questions and the rest of her senses on the note and the Enochian dictionary she had on her desk, slowly but surely translating each word first into letters she could understand, then into words. With 15minutes to spare at the end of the class, she finally understood what the note read:  
“You have such a beautiful smile, I would do anything to see you wear it more often.”

She looked down at the note in disbelief, trying to figure out if someone was making fun of her, if it was an insult, or if someone genuinely thought she had a nice smile. She could feel her cheeks burning a little and suddenly she felt self-conscious, like every pair of eyes in the room was staring at her. She spent the last 15minutes of the lesson trying to see any tell-tale signs from any of the students. Looking at each one, studying them harder than she ever would have before, she begins to think of which one she would LIKE the note to be from. By the end of the class, she has decided she THINKS the note is from the red-haired girl called Charlie - freaking genius, geek extraordinaire, but would LIKE it to be from the guy with the messy black hair and tan skin at the front. Although he is wearing a suit - completely incorrectly she notes - he does have the most startlingly blue eyes and his name - Castiel - just melts on her tongue. She could orgasm to a name like that, she thinks with a smile.

The second the minute hand reaches 12 to signal the end of the lesson, she’s up and out of there, breathing deep as she leaves the school and enters into the world of fresh air and freedom.

* * * * *

Castiel watches as she walks past his desk, breathing deep to catch a whiff of bonfires, pumpkin spice and brimstone. His eyes are fixated on the place where the dark, bottle red of her hair had been moments before, shining so bright it left an imprint when he blinked, until suddenly, he is snapped out of his daydreaming.

“Oh Cassie,” His brother, Balthazar, sighs in his ear, causing him to jump slightly and glare at the other boy. “I do wonder why father still believes we need these classes. Honestly, anyone would think we were beginners and not completely fluent. Ah well, at least it’s another high grade to add to our average, right brother?” Balthazar laughs, slinging his arm over Castiel’s shoulders and steering him towards the door. “At least they could have found more girls to recruit, total sausage fest. in there don’t you think? Then again, that new bottle-red girl, what was her name? Maggie?”  
“Meg.” Castiel corrects, short and curt.  
“Ah yes, Meg. Real firecracker that one. I wouldn’t mind a romp with her between my sheets!” Balthazar joked as they left the school and begun the journey home. “Oh, but then again, I saw the way you were lusting after her in there. And the note in Enochian? My little brother, ever the romantic. I think you should go for it, ask her to date you, who knows? You might beat me to that horizontal-tango-between-the-sheets.” Balthazar says as he lifts his arm from around Castiel’s shoulders and walks off, laughing to himself before being joined by some of the other students.

Castiel sighed to himself. If only he had the confidence to do just that - to walk right up to Meg, tell her what he thinks of her and ask her to date him. But he’s simply not brave enough. Instead, he will find better quotes, longer poems and send them to her, one a day and all in Enochian. Who knows? Maybe one day he’ll receive one back…  
   
* * * * *

Castiel grinned to himself as they made their way along the road. His brothers could laugh at him all they wanted, he actually enjoyed getting up early for school, although admittedly he wondered how much worse their laughing and jesting would become when they found out that not only did he set off early to school so he could spend the morning walk there with Sam Winchester - chatting about politics, religion, law and all other manner of socially unacceptable conversation, but they did the entire walk in Latin.  
Languages fascinated him, especially the old, dead ones. The Winchester brothers fascinated him even more - they were so different from his own siblings in the way they cared about one another and their whole relationship wasn’t built on jests and mockery. Castiel liked to spend time with Dean during the day - listening to rock music, studying the innards of cars and enjoying the summer sun, but the early mornings were dedicated to Sam, Latin and philosophy. Well… it was until they got to the school gate and saw that car again.

It positively gleamed with evil - all black gloss paint and high-shined chrome. The license plate read “4Lucifr” and above was a crude stick on picture of a cartoon devil. Both Sam and Cas stopped when they saw the illegally tinted windows and even though they couldn’t see inside yet, Sam was already wincing in sympathy.  
Suddenly the drivers side window rolled down silently on electric motors and a school bag was thrown across the pavement, books and papers scattering in the breeze. At the same moment, one of the back doors opened and a girl began to climb down from the high seat, but before she had even gained her footing on the ground, the car’s tyres had spun off in a maniacal squeal and the car had shot forward, the door slamming shut as it went and the girl left to go sprawling onto her knees.

“Oh God!” Sam cried over the sound of the engine, disappearing into the distance. “We should go help” He said, starting forward, but then he stopped,frozen in place as the girl stood up and scowled round at anyone and everyone watching her. Her eyes were full of hostility to all the pitying stares she caught, a small growl rising from her throat at the students who were hurrying forward to help her collect her belongings. A few who had grabbed what paper they could sort of stacked it all together in front of her and backed away.

Castiel wondered what his fellow students saw in her - hostility? A sorrowful case? Someone to pity? To Scorn? He saw none of these things. Immediately, as he watched the girl pick herself up off the floor, dust herself off, grab her books and stalk off into school, he felt nothing but admiration. He saw pure, undiluted strength and passion to fight back in this girl who had seemingly submitted to the horrific treatment she was subjected to. But that wasn’t submission, she wasn’t letting them treat her like that because she was broken, he knew she was doing what she needed to do to stay alive for now, but under all that creamy, perfect skin, under that red hair that aggressively threw the sunlight back into his eyes, behind those hostile, cold eyes that she used to warn people away from her, there was a fire that could only be rivaled by hell and a simple passion to get away and live her life the way she wanted.  
“Meg…” Castiel whispered to himself in awe at her.

* * * * *

She’d been thinking about the message ever since the first one had appeared. The first had been the best, someone noticing her smile and calling it nice rather than cold or scary. There had been a few superficial ones since then - “Your hair looks nice today”, “I like your jacket” and so on, all written in Enochian. If it wasn’t for the language she would have thought someone was mocking her, but because of the language and because of the streak of ginger hair she kept catching going past her locker, she was fairly convinced she knew who was sending them. Only a girl could notice things like the clothes she wore and only a girl could know how to compliment her in exactly the right place to make her smile all week.

But the novelty had worn off. She hadn’t received a note today and after the way her father and thrown her bag out of the car window and she had stumbled out, being laughed at by all the other kids when she fell over and scraped her knee bloody, she was wearing thin on patience. She decided she would have it out with the note writer and so she was out of her seat and off to Enochian class as the bell struck on 3pm.

Thankfully, there was only one chair taken up when she got there and it was by exactly the person she wanted to speak to.  
“Bradbury.” She greeted as she walked over, throwing her bag under the desk next to her - who cared about being careful? the damn thing had been thrown out the window this morning. Walking right up to Charlie’s desk, she placed her hands on the wood in front of her, pushing her chest together and smiling down at the girl in front of her. “You know ginger-locks, if you wanted to go out with me all you had to do was ask. I mean the notes were cute, but we’re not in second grade anymore.”  
Meg’s speech was greeted by a frown.

“Well as much as I’m seriously enjoying the show right now, Masters, and I mean really, you have a great rack, I honestly don’t understand a thing you just said to me.” She replied, her eyes flicking from Meg’s chest to her face and back again. “Who’s been sending you notes? Creepo much? Yeuch!”  
Meg felt a little defeated, she had been so sure it was the red-head sending her the messages and she didn’t know what to make of the rejection. She stood there for a few more moments until she was startled out of her thoughts.

“Sit down girl, lesson’s startin’” Came the sudden southern american drawl of Bobby Singer and Meg was shocked to see the class had completely filled up and there was just her and Singer stood at the front of the room.

Sighing, Meg sat down and pulled out her notebook, copying the date down as Singer was writing it on the board. She kept rubbing a distracted hand over the raw wound on her knee, turning over the notes in her head as well as half concentrating on the board. 

It was about half way through the class, Singer was writing down a bunch of sentences for them to try and translate and she wasn’t paying attention to anything much when something was shoved onto her desk…. but not from Charlie’s side. She looked to her right to see Kevin Tran winking at her before turning back to the board.  
Looking down, there was a small brown bottle wrapped up in lined paper… and just like before, it had her name and a map of the classroom with her desk circled. Feeling her face go red, she pulled the bottle from the paper - noticing it was medical disinfectant with a small note saying “For your knee” written on the side - and the note which read:  
“He should know it takes a lot more than that to break diamonds, but that doesn’t make it ok. He shouldn’t treat you like that. All your throny pain, it’s so beautiful.”  
At the top of the page, the note-writer had drawn a picture of a pair of angel wings in black ink and suddenly in Meg’s mind, her note writer stopped being “The creep” and became her “Dirty winged guardian angel”

She didn’t notice the intense pair of blue eyes, ignoring the words Singer was writing on the board as he knew each and every one of them anyway, but not in the way he wanted to know every curl of her hair, every inch of that creamy skin and to change the cold, hard hostility of her eyes to a look of joy.  
“Oh Boy… I don’t think this is just a small, high school crush” Castiel thought to himself as he tore his gaze away from the back of her head and carried on with the work he had been set, ignoring the rumble of his stomach that was complaining for the way he had missed lunch so he could use his lunch money to buy a small bottle of medical disinfectant. “…I think this is way more than just a crush”


End file.
